Eyes and a beach conversation

 Bloody awful injection in my eye yesterday and repeat appointment this afternoon.

I’m eye phobic and only coping because a support worker at the eye hospital was so sweet….

Go to your happy place ( she told me )

“ I can’t “ I told her

“ well go to mine” …she said

“where’s that?” I asked clutching at straws

“Greggs * “ she said with a smile ….

I loved her

    *https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greggs

I had a text from a dear friend this morning. It was the dreaded I have Cancer message. I didn’t ring back immediately, these type on conversations need preparation and calm. So I took the Welsh to McDonalds and bought them a cheesy flatbread and myself a large coffee and a porridge. 

I walked the dogs on the beach and we returned to Bluebell where I rang my friend. 

I listened and heard and I told my friend that I loved them as the Welsh curled up into balls to sleep and the sea breeze slipped through the open windows.

Fire – Mädchenchor Hamburg

This is an extraordinary piece of singing. Not the lisping choir but a German one.

I’m in the waiting room at the eye hospital ( first visit of two)

Another day another procedure.  

( Ive had to turn the volume down for this one) 

And the vagaries of normal life ebb and flow

As they have a habit of doing

When I got home yesterday a package awaited me on the kitchen wall

A card and a gift of jam from Lywena ( Widow to Ralph the Gentleman Farmer)

Who lives down the lane and across the Felin Valley

It’s for my counselling certificate, I start seeing clients proper next week! 

Old Friends

 Thirty six years have flown by, and between us we’ve had four husbands, seven children, lots of laughs and quite a few too many tears. In our twenties, we bonded as young staff nurses ( and occupational therapist) and supported each other through the adventures of young adulthood. Tracey still looks like Sophia Loren and wears a smile that can almost make you cry with its warmth. Ally remains the quirky one, with a sharp brain and wit to match and I felt at home , as I always did, listening to them banter and laugh about the last thirty years of news. 

For once, a long time ago, I was that quiet shy man. The one who had never been to the Opera. The one that hadn’t had a relationship that was fraught and adult and interesting. I soaked up their energy like a sponge and I grew as a person and as a professional in 1980s York that was filled with music, and drink, and socialising and laughter, and of friendships that mattered.

We missed Betty’s, a suicide on the train line had made me unfortunately late, ( how apt it was a probably a mental health problem which affected our reunion) but this morning I took myself off to Betty’s alone and sat in the window with my tea and fat rascal before getting the train home

York a thought from 2009

Written winter 2009


“I qualified as a RMN (Registered Psychiatric Nurse) in 1986. None of our group of 8 students planned to staff in our training hospital in Chester, so it seemed perfectly reasonable to move to a city with similar sensibilities!.I was lucky to get a job in York, I had no idea of what to expect, or indeed what my role would be, I just went for the interview as all the others did and got the job! My placement was at the prestigious Bootham Park Hospital (below), which was the showcase for the Health authority at the time. The hospital was small, comprising of only 6 wards as I recall, and I secured a job on ward 1 which was an acute admission ward for around 18 general patients and up to 6 mother and babies.
I was given fairly basic accommodation at the nurses residence at Clifton Hospital which was the old asylum two miles away.I was 24, but a young and gauche 24, so a new job in a new city,was pretty tough for me at first....but on reflection I had a blast of a time!
My allocation to the nurses home gave me contact with a huge group of new starters! 20 or so student nurses, all nervous of the challenges ahead provided me with a ready made group of friends and that coupled with a young and bright set of work colleagues which were also "on tap", meant that the 2 years I was a staff nurse was one big social experience!.


In York I had a steady stream of girlfriends (Gay realisation was sadly yet to dawn!!!), an introduction to other cultures and races (which never happened in Wales or indeed the very conservative Chester) and intellectual stimulation by open minded bright people. It was also where I started my Love affair with Yorkshire and the straight talking Yorkshire people, with their wonderful flat, warm way of talking and deadpan sense of humour.
On reflection I loved my time there and I learnt so much. Professionally, the ward was run sympathetically and with great thought. The ward manager (an obese jolly ex community nurse--who incidentally had been run over by her own car months before I started and therefore was transferred to the inpatient facility!) had, as I recall a big heart and a knack of developing her staff with time and care,On reflection I blossomed under her guidance.
I also teamed up with another staff nurse called Tracy Birkin ( I am on a memory roll now!!! ) who provided me with big sister-ish support. Fearless and insightful, she became my professional hero, and with a personality as big as a bus, helped me develop from shy Welsh geek into a more sociable more rounded friend. (she was also famous at being able to run 1000 yards in high heels to catch any absconding patient before they reached the hospital gates!)
So this morning I have had a memory "romp" about the people I used to know in that faraway part of my life....I wonder where they are now....Tracey married and moved to Goole I think, but the others such as Linda Mapplebeck, Cathy Audin (who looked like Dennis the menace) Sue Kirton, Mandy Moore, Jim Cooper, David Griffith, Pete Curry, Barry Ford,Boy next door-Martin Kirby ( who, on reflection I secretly fancied ) have all disappeared from view when I moved to Sheffield to start life in "spinal injuries "....
Two friends I do keep in touch with, Cheryl and Gill still write occasionally in Christmas cards and in brief e mails......I am not sad......on reflection........like I said.,......York was a blast!”

Today’s thought

And it’s interesting that I am now returning to York to catch up with the aforementioned

Tracy. Indeed several of the people I’ve mentioned have returned to my world in some way or another, like so many people do when you need them .

Hey ho

Betty’s

 

I am meeting Tracy in York tomorrow afternoon. 

Like Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard we have arranged to meet outside Betty’s Tearooms at 5 pm, and I’ve arranged for us to have high tea in the Belmont Room .

Betty’s was first opened in 1937 and is a must for anyone visiting the city.

When I lived in York, Betty’s was a go to for the occasional treat away from hard psychiatric nurse shifts

Locals never braved the queues at peak times only turning up early in the day to snatch a table for one

I was 24, and even then I fell in love with its art deco lines and waitresses with frilly hats

I’m on the way to being 64 and I’m meeting Tracy after a break of thirty six years

How lovely

A Thank You

 It was a particularly gruelling night at work last night and I was somewhat jaded when I returned home.

A message from Trendy Carol’s Husband lifted my mood.

It simply said 

“ I’ll pick the dogs up at 10.30” 

And so safe in the thought they would be looked after whilst I slept, I walked and fed them, then went to bed, for a proper sleep. 

Trendy Carol’s hubby I will call Owain

Without Owain, I couldn’t have kept my dogs for as long as I have.

From the first time that I had to return to work after retiring, he jumped into the breech and took care of them when I needed him to. 

This weekend I’m popping up to York to see an old friend and Owain will be there treating the dogs as if they were his own.

And he refuses any payment, just allowing me to take him to appointments and picking up pharmacy and the like.

The world runs on kindnesses like his

And I thank him for it

Short Bursts

 

Ive been lucky enough to see Diana Damrau sing this aria at the Met in New York .To be honest the Opera is complicated and overlong , but this aria is sublime and is a lesson of sometimes the best bits are the briefest

I had brunch with my friend Polly this morning. 

Not a long date but one we both felt the benefit from it.

Heyho

An early Christmas Story

Nineteen years ago, at the beginning of December...I had only one turkey living on the field.
Boris was a mere youngster then...a rather skinny adolescent with a winning nature and an lonely disposition, he spent the short days of winter wandering his enclosure in the vain hope of finding a busty mate.
Unsure of exactly where to get a female turkey from, I put an advertisement up at the post office which read

Wanted

Female TURKEY for sex starved Stag

looks and age immaterial

No time wasters Please

On the 5th of December I received a phone call from a poultry farmer in Hollywell, informing me that he was about to cull his entire flock of English Whites, and if I was quick I could have one female!
I jumped at the chance.
And minutes after the call, I found myself standing in a huge aircraft hanger of a barn, looking at 800, fat, stupid and very loud Christmas turkeys.
"Help yourself" the farmer said and I suddenly found myself with the awesome responsibility of choosing one turkey survivor out of hundreds!
which one should I pick?
Which one looked more nervous?
Which one had the most gentle or needy expression?
I was literally spoilt for choice.....as 1,600 dark soulful eyes watched my every move......
Who would I save?
Which girl would have the opportunity to gallop gaily in a green field with the sun on her beak?

I looked pleadingly at the farmer for inspiration, and without a pause he bent down a picked up a slightly slickly looking female who just had been pecked on the back of her head.....
"Here... have this one" he said..... as he plonked her under my arm
"What should I call her?" I asked, trying to make conversation
He smiled and laughed
"I'd call her fucking lucky....that's what I would call her!"


And that's how Gloria appeared here on the field!........
I told the story to Jason today, when he stopped by when on a dog walk....
"You're a regular turkey Oskar Schindler " he said brightly, when I had finished!